The male tinkerer at last pulled out a long-stemmed pipe and stuck the bit between his teeth. He next reached for a small cloth bag, from which he extracted tobacco, which he proceeded to stuff into the bowl. Having done that he struck a match, and a fragrant, cherry-flavoured smoke rose into the air and turned it blue.

“How goes it, stranger?” he called. His voice was surprisingly youthful and high, and not unpleasant. “I am, uh, going to assume you are not a highwayman or a horse thief”—his tone suggested that he was far from convinced on that score but for lack of a better choice, was willing to give the Stranger the benefit of the doubt—“and anyway, as you can see, we are but, uh, poor tinkerers, with nothing worth stealing.” He made a desultory gesture at their wagon.

“I heard gunshot,” the Stranger said. “Some distance back.”

“Nothing to do with, uh, us, I’m sure,” the tinkerer said.

“I can’t think where else it could have come from.”

The tinkerer shrugged. The woman beside him cupped her hands and whispered into his ear. He nodded. “Ah, yes,” he said. “We ran into some problems a while back. That’s right. A wild, uh, snake. My, uh, sister had to shoot the creature. A shame, really. We value all life.”

The woman measured out a span with her hands.

“A big one,” the tinkerer added, unnecessarily.

“A snake.”

“It is, uh, so.”

“What happened to it?”

The woman whispered again. The man said, “We left it behind. I was, uh, asleep at the time. I sleep heavily, you see.”

It was none of the Stranger’s business, and he did not press the point just then.

“Why do you travel on the road?” he asked instead, with curiosity. “Would it not be quicker to follow a straight route to your destination?”

“Ah,” the tinkerer said. “You would, uh, think so, wouldn’t you. But the straight route is seldom the quickest, on the Escapement. And there is an old saying, uh, it is the journey that matters, stranger, not the destination.”

The Stranger nodded politely. The man puffed on his pipe. In the wagon behind them, something banged sharply, and for a moment the wagon rocked from side to side. The woman ducked under the canvas and disappeared, and the Stranger heard a sharp crack, followed by silence. The woman re-emerged and took her seat. She smiled at the Stranger and her teeth were white and even.

“Rats,” she said.

“I’m, uh, Fledermaus,” the man said. “This is Titania.”

“Howdy, stranger,” Titania said. “And which way are you travelling, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Kellysburg,” the Stranger said. “I have horses to sell.”

“You won’t get much for them there,” she said.

The Stranger shrugged. “I’ll take what I get.”